


So Much Unhappiness

by trollopsgarden



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, Death, Sad pain misery, Slight Comfort, Slight gore/kinda gross in the beginning sorry, he doesn’t deserve this bro, i care him so much, idk I’m just thinking abt tommys character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollopsgarden/pseuds/trollopsgarden
Summary: “Oh, don’t believe that love brings happinessGone tomorrow here todayLove involves so much unhappinessDon’t believe what they say”———Dream keeps killing and reviving Tommy. Tommy just misses his friends. He misses Wilbur.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	So Much Unhappiness

_Wham!_  
Tommy’s vision went white as the back of his head collided with the hard prison wall. He always tried to fight back each time, but right now he could do little more than sink to the floor. He was so, so tired. His limbs felt as heavy as lead and his brain was screaming for it to just be over with already. 

This must have been the fourth or fifth time Dream had killed him in the small, dark cell. Tommy wasn’t really sure, he’d stopped counting. As cliche as it sounded, he saw bits and pieces of his life flashing before his eyes as Dream brought a boot down on his face.

_Crack!_

This was worse than exile. Worse than doomsday. Worse than any other suffering he’d endured until now.

_Crack!_

He thought about Tubbo. Where he was, if he even knew where Tommy was. Their relationship was still slightly strained ever since exile, but right now he’d give anything to see him again. He wanted to listen to music discs and watch the sunset on their bench. He wanted to laugh until he couldn’t breathe at another one of Tubbo’s strange mannerisms.

_Crack!_

He thought about Technoblade, who, even though he probably really wanted to, didn’t kick him out of his house when he holed up there to escape Dream. Who endured his thieving and shouting and gave Tommy someone to rely on when he had never felt so lost. Who promised him the death of a hero. What would he think now, seeing Tommy like this? Choking on his own blood on the floor of a dirty prison cell? 

He probably wouldn’t think much, Tommy decided. They weren’t on the best of terms anymore.

_Crack!_

He thought about Wilbur. He’d spent so long mourning the man he called his brother, spent so long trying to figure out a way to get him back. He left behind a fragment of who he was, a painful reminder in the form of a smiling ghost. Sometimes Tommy wondered if Wilbur had somehow planned that, too. He imagined hands reaching beyond the afterlife to pull every string needed to torment Tommy. He always had a way of getting under Tommy’s skin, even in death it seemed. 

_Crack!_

Tommy had managed to convince himself that if he could get Wilbur back, everything was going to be okay. It would all go back to the way it was. They could come up with ridiculous schemes together and spend the days arguing about stuff that didn’t matter. All the bad things would just go away once he would have his loving brother back. 

_Crack!_

But Wilbur wasn’t that person. Maybe there was still a sliver of him left inside, somewhere, but not anymore. He was just as cruel and unstable as the man who died in the flames and wreckage of L’manburg.

_Crack!_

Things were never going to go back to the way they were.

_Crack!_

Why was this happening?

_Crack!_

Tommy couldn’t remember what it felt like to be happy.

_Crack!_

It all went dark again.

His arrival into the afterlife was always punctuated by a distinct feeling of nothingness. Most notably, the horrible pain of having his skull caved in stopped immediately, as well as all his other senses.

The afterlife was like one of those sensory deprivation pods. He was somehow void of all feeling while at the same time hyper-aware of everything around him. He no longer felt the cool stone of the prison floor, but the space around him was thick and enveloping. Almost comforting in a way.

There was no sound, save for his heavy breathing. He clenched his fists in the hem of his shirt, falling to his knees.

“Tommy?” He heard coming from the nothingness, “Is that you again?”

His heart sank. The familiar voice that once brought him happiness was now like needles in his ears. The fond memories of singing and laughing together were now only replaced with manic laughter and hushed whispers of horrible promises.

No. No, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to even think about Wilbur right now.

“Go away,” he muttered through heaving breaths.

Wilbur scoffed.

“Right, let me just resurrect myself as well. I’ll skedaddle on back to the living world and get out of your hair,” he chuckled. “It’s been a week, you know. A hello would be nice!”

Wilbur continued rambling. Amongst the screaming of his head, Tommy could make out the sound of pacing around and cards shuffling. He could barely focus on whatever Wilbur was saying. There was no pain in the afterlife, but his brain still felt like it was being ripped in half. He brought his hands to his head in an attempt to stop the throbbing as tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. 

It was like all the pain just came back at once, full force. All the people who had left him, the lies, the abuse and manipulation, all of it swirled around in his head until he couldn’t think, couldnt _breathe._

“Now, I know you said you were tired of it, but let’s play just one last game of solitaire. I’ll even get Schlatt to play, we can—“

Wilbur was cut off as Tommy curled in on himself and just screamed. It was strained, broken, and painful. He screamed until his throat was aching and tears were streaming from his eyes. When he stopped he was gasping for breath in between sobs.

For the first time in forever, Wilbur was at a loss for words. He looked concerned, a face Tommy hadn’t seen on him in a long time. His usual smug look seemed to have completely dropped as he kneeled in front of the younger boy.

“Tommy? What’s wrong?” He said, trying to get a look at the boys face. Tommy didn’t know whether to laugh or keep crying. A part of him reveled in the feeling of Wilbur’s concern for him, however genuine it was. 

“Wil- I-“ Tommy tried to choke out some semblance of a sentence but could barely speak through sobs and gasps. Somehow, it seemed like Wilbur still understood. The look on his face softened and he pulled Tommy into a hug. The boy buried his face into the older man’s shoulder and wailed, his cries muffled by the fabric of Wilbur’s jacket. 

Wilbur brought a hand to the back of his head and ruffled his hair, holding him through his sobs. He’d never seen Tommy like this. Tommy had refused to tell much of what had happened to him after Wilbur’s death, and now he was itching to know just a second of whatever it was he’d been through. 

Tommy wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, it could’ve been five minutes or an hour. Wilbur was definitely going to scold him for dirtying his clothes with snot and tears, but right now, Tommy didn’t care. Everything hurt so bad. He just wanted to hug his brother. 

Even now, Tommy knew Wilbur still wasn’t who he used to be. The next day, he’d be back to his evil self, monologuing his sadistic thoughts until he drove Tommy crazy. But right now, Tommy would cling to him, to the sliver of Wilbur that was still inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from “Dont Believe” by Vashti Bunyan
> 
> Confession I teared up a bit while writing this, not because I think I have godlike writing but bc I care about this boy so much.
> 
> If u read plz lmk what u think!


End file.
